The Choices We Make
by whitegloveslappin
Summary: What if Harry had made different choices?  What if he did things differently? What if he had been wiser?  AU
1. The Boy From

The Choices We Make

Everyone knows the story of the Boy Who Lived. Everyone knows how he just barely defeated the darkest wizard to have ever walked the earth. How he made bad, wrong choices in his schooling, and it was a stroke of good luck that led to the Dark Lord's defeat. Here is the other story, one where he made different choices.

Harry Potter banged his head on the stairs as he sat up in his miniture, cramped, and too small cupboard. His wicked aunt, Petunia Dursley (formerly Evans), was pounding on the cupboards door.

"Get up, freak!" Petunia shouted, her shrill voice cracking and croaking from extreme overuse.

"Coming, Aunt Petunia," Harry groaned, his growing bones popping as he reached for his taped up coke bottle glasses.

"Well, hurry! It's my Duddywobkins special day, and you need to start cooking his special four course gourmet breakfast!"

"Okay," Harry sighed as he remembered that it was Dudley's eleventh birthday. Harry had turned eleven several months ago. Harry slowly opened the cupboard door and stepped into the startlingly bright hallway.

"Don't you dare burn the bacon, either!" Petunia squaked.

Harry cringed when he heard the spoon hit the floor, knowing he would be punished for dropping the bowl full of eggs. Uncle Vernon, very fortunately, did not notice Harry's clumsy mistake. When he heard the mail slot open and hit the floor, Vernon asked Dudley to get it.

"Make Harry get it!" Dudley wailed loudly, whacking the freshly set table with his brand new Smeltings stick.

"Yes, my little Duddylumpers should not have to get his own mail on the monumentous occasion!" Petunia shouted, her face flushed.

"Well, boy! You heard your aunt! Go fetch the mail! Now!" Vernon screamed, his face looking like a purple plum. _Why does this family scream so much?, _Harry thought.

Harry scurried toward the foyer, shutting the kitchen door quietly behind him. He picked up the mail. Birthday card for Dudley from Aunt Marge, bill from the electric company, Vernon's lengire catalog, and a beige letter with a crimson seal on the front, that was adressed to Harry James Potter.

**Choice 1: **

**To let Vernon know about the letter.**

Harry quickly stashed the letter underneath Petunia's pretentious walnut cridensa, to retrieve later, in the dead of night.

"Mail Call!" Harry said, setting the rest of the mail in the center of the table. Dudley snatched up Aunt Marge's card.

"Hundred pounds!" Dudley wailed, as he ripped open Aunt Marge's card open, openly bawling at the, in his eyes, cheap amount, "Cheapskate!"

"Duddyboop, I'll give you an extra two hundred to go with that." Petunia said with a tone that could freeze a burning building. Petunia glared at Vernon until he begrudgingly pulled two bills out of his wallet, trying to smooth out the wrinkles before handing them over. "Here you go Doddywubbles, two nice hundreds to match the ones you already have." Petunia said, naively obliging her selfish, spoiled son.

"Well, Dudley, when is Piers coming over for your zoo trip?" Uncle Vernon said, referring to Dudley's equally oafish friend, who was also part of his gang of bullies, Piers Polkiss.

"He said he'd be here around two." Dudley said, shoving his birthday cake in his mouth.

"Mrs. Figg will be here to pick up the freak in half an hour, luckily she didn't break anything when she walked in front of Dudley's bike a few weeks ago." Petunia said, packing snacks into a small rucksack for the trip.

Harry calmly slipped out of the kitchen as Dudley unwrapped his presents, each one bigger than the last. He checked to make sure that Petunia and Vernon were occupied, watching Dudley unwrap a computer, than a video game system, than a brand new ten speed bike, that both knew he would never use. He grabbed the letter from under the cridensa, and went about reading the inch thick letter, written on old school parchment. His eyes widened and his mouth opened wider and wider as he read the letter. He was puzzled when the letter ended, asking him to send a letter with the owl. _What owl?, _He thought. He quickly scratched out a reply. An owl scratched at the window, his curiosities rectified. As he sat back down, something truly sank in. _He's a wizard._


	2. The Best Of All Possible Worlds

Secrets are something that everyone keeps, dirty little misdeeds that you never want

anyone to know about, something you need to hide. Like the Weasley boys, who never

told their mother when they broke one of her lawn chair. Or like Neville Longbottom,

who never told his grandmother when he took five galleons from her purse. Or like

Arabella Figg, who never told the Dursley's that she is from a family of wizards, or that

their nephew, who she babysits, is very famous in the wizard world.

The doorbell rang, drawing Arabella's attention away from her book. She walked through her house, which had a remarkably similar floor plan to the Dursley's, to answer the front door.

"We'll be back in four hours," Petunia said, throwing Harry at Arabella and dashing to her car, cackling on the way.

"Hello, Mrs. Figg," Harry said, with an icy tone, "How is your day?"

"Good, Harry," Arabella said, her forehead wrinkled, "You can look through my bookshelf for something to read while I go make you lunch."

Harry quickly ran to the bookcase, looking through her books. Arabella walked down the hall to the kitchen, and got the ingriedients for a grilled cheese sandwich. Harry hunted through the layers of books, until he got to the last shelf, and then he saw the wood dislodged, which he slowly pried away from the bookcase. Under the books, he saw a secret compartment, with a cover that said, in girly handwriting, _Wizarding World._ He opened it, and saw moving photographs of a stunning castle, four girls all in a line, one of them with fiery red hair and Harry's eyes, the other with brown hair and brown eyes, and the third was a girl with black hair, and the last was, Mrs. Figg!

Harry walked down the hall toward the kitchen, holding the book in his left hand and the picture in his right. He walked in and slammed the scrapbook down on the granite counter tops.

"Oh, I see you found my dirty little secret." Mrs. Figg said sheepishly, her head hung low.

"Yes, I did. Is this Hogwarts? Is this my mom?" Harry said, pointing to the picture, his eyes tearing up.

"Let's go talk to someone who may be able to explain the wizard world to you better than I can." Mrs. Figg said, brandishing a piece of wood and grabbing Harry, then there was a blinding light and Harry had the sensation of being squeezed through a thin tube.

Molly Weasley was _furious._ She had told her sons every day for the past two weeks that they were going school shopping at the wizard secondhand shop in Diagon Alley, and all of her sons were still asleep. Her only daughter, Ginny, was in the kitchen with the breakfast, which was rapidly turning cold.

"Ginny, could you-"

"Already on it." Ginny said, handing her aging mother an empty wooden bucket, along with her wand.

"Thank you so much," Molly said with a smile, "I'll only take a second."

She stomped up the staircase, each step creaking as she went, with her head held high. She quietly opened Fred and George's door, walking on her tip toes to avoid waking them up as she conjured ice water into the bucket. She, in quick succesion, dumped a bucket on each of them, and the silenced their yelps with a charm. She swiftly did the same to her youngest son, Ronald Billius Weasley, and he screamed suprisingly loud. She then scurried to her son Percy's room, suprised to find him fully clothed and polished, reading a book on the construction of runes in anciet wizardry. She grabbed him by his ear and dragged him to the kitchen, where she found her other three sons waiting for her, their teeth clanging together and all three shivering. She did a drying charm, if only to prevent hypothermia.

"Fred, you go take a shower. George, here's my wand, go do a heating spell on the pond, and a cleaning spell, and go bathe. Ron, wait in the living room for a chance at a shower." Molly said, her hand on her hips.

George scurried outside and Fred scurried up the stairs. Ron huffed and slammed himself down on the couch. Ginny smiled smugly and continued eating her scrambled eggs and toast. Molly sighed and sat down, determined to finish her own breakfast.

Dumbledore was panicing. Thirty seconds ago, Arabella Figg had flooed over to say that Harry Potter had a few questions that he had to answer. Dumbledore then called for Minerva McGonnagal, his closest confidante, to discuss this event.

"I don't know Min. Should I tell him about the prophecy?" Dumbledore asked, his withered skin crinkling with reluctence.

"Absolutely not! He's much to young to handle it! You should wait until his third year! At the very least!" Ms. McGonnagal shouted, obviously worried about the young boy.

Albus agreed, Minerva was a fine woman and an even finer professor, and she deserved his respect. She left and Albus sat in his chair, waiting for Arabella to arrive with Harry. Thirty minutes later, there was an audible pop as the two figures appeared in the office. Harry spun around, very dizzy due to it being his first apparition experience. He spun around for a few more seconds before spewing the contents of his breakfast into Albus's newly cleaned fireplace.

"I apologize, sir." Harry said, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

"Quite alright, Mr. Potter," Albus said, while pointing his wand at the fireplace, "_Scourigify._"

"Sit down, Mr. Potter, Arabella." Albus said.

"Mr. Dumbledore?" Harry said.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore questioned whilst sucking on a lemon drop.

"How am I going to get my school supplies? Do they sell this stuff in London?" Harry asked, with a perplexed look on his face.

"If you know where to look." Dumbledore said grabbing Harry's arm and rushing into the fireplace, grabbing floo powder and shouting, "Diagon Alley!"

Molly Weasley's trips to Diagon Alley were always chaotic. Fred and George pulling pranks, Percy wanting to look at books they couldn't afford, Ron and Ginny goofing of and throwing thing. Yes, Molly's trips were always chaotic, but this one seemed rather, calm, and Molly was on red alert. She always had a calm before the storm mentality. So imagine her suprise when she walks out of the wizarding secondhand shop to find Albus Dumbledore, covered in soot, standing next an equally sooty boy about Ron's age, maybe a bit younger.

"Why hello, Albus. What brings you here?" Molly asked, smiling at an old professor and friend.

"Mr. Potter here had to do some school shopping. We just finished getting his trunk, books, and pet. Now we have to get his wand and robes." Albus said, with a twinkle in his eye and a chuckle.

Ginny had shrieked and ducked into the nearest shop at the mention of Harry Potter, Fred and George were busy looking for the scar, and Percy was looking up in a book all the facts he possibly could about Harry Potter. Albus bid them ado, and Harry Potter left the family's midst.

Twenty minutes later, Harry was getting fitted for robes at Madam Malkin's, next to a snooty looking boy with platinum blonde hair and gray eyes. He rolled his eyes at the elderly Madam and made lewd gestures to the young salesgirl. He explained to Harry that his name was Draco Malfoy.

"So, are you starting Hogwarts this year?" Draco asked, his nose upturned.

"Yes." Harry said coldly, knowing that this foul boy would not be his friend this year.

"What house do you want to be in?" Draco asked.

_House?, _Harry thought in confusion.

"Slytherin is the best, my entire family belongs in it. Hufflepuff is full of spineless poufs, Ravenclaw is full of equally spineless nerds, Gryffindoor is the most disgusting, full of mudblood filth." Draco said with a scowl, "I hear Harry Potter's coming to Hogwarts this year. I bet he'll go into Hufflepuff with all of the other losers. He didn't defeat the dark lord, he's still alive. What's your name again?" Draco asked as he and Harry finished up with their fittings.

"Oh, you didn't catch it?" Harry asked, smirking, "It's Harry Potter."

Harry turned around and walked out of the store, smug smile and robes with him. He met up with Albus, who was holding Harry's new black cat Sunshine, and off they went to Ollivander's wand shop. They walked in and out walked an old man with a slight limp from the storeroom in the back.

"Well, well, Mr. Potter, I've been expecting you." Mr. Ollivander said, a smile on his face that was missing several teeth.

Then, for almost two hours, they tried out wands for Harry. Mahogany with unicorn hair didn't work, Willow with dragon heartstring didn't work, Ash with Vella Hair didn't work, Blackthorn with Dementor essence didn't work, and then, Ollivander handed Harry a wand that sent rays of heat up and down his body, and electric sparks flew out of the wand, creating a fireworks show of red and gold. The light got so bright that both Dumbledore and Ollivander had to shield their eyes until it was over.

"Curious, very, very, very curious" Ollivander muttered to himself as he rang up the wand.

"If you don't mind me asking, Mr. Ollivander, what's curious?" Harry asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion.

"Mr. Potter, I remember every wand I have ever sold. Every, single, one. And yours is the direct cousin to another one that I sold many years ago. Same tree donated the wood. Same phoenix donated the cores. Your wand is the direct cousin to Tom Marvolo Riddle's." Mr. Ollivander said with a smirk.

"Who is that?" Harry asked quietly.

"You want to take this?" Dumbledore asked with a sad look on his fake, expressing disappointment in a former student.

"This is who he is." Ollivander said, taking out a sheet of parchment and a quill. He wrote out on the top of the page: _Tom Marvolo Riddle._ On the bottom, after drawing arrows from letter to letter, he wrote: _I Am Lord Vodemort._

Harry gasped at the revalation. Mrs. Figg had told him the story of how Voldemort had brutally murdered both his parents, and how Harry had destroyed him, with the help of Lily's spell.

"But, I'm not evil!" Harry said in indignation.

"You have to stop seeing the world as so black and white, Mr. Potter. There are many shades of gray. Voldemort did extrordinarily amazing things with his wand. Granted, he did all of the wrong things for all the wrong reasons, but he still did amazing things. You most likely will do all the same amazing things, but for extrordinarily different reasons." Ollivander said with a serious look on his face. He looked into Harry's eyes so deeply, it was like he could see straight to his soul. Harry left the shop very disoriented due to all of the shocks and suprises of the day. He went back to Mrs. Figg's house in complete silence and stayed completely silent for the rest of the night.

Yes, everyone has a secret, something they want to keep hidden. But, as with every secret, the truth must eventually come out. Whether it be a neighbor finding out your true lineage. Or a mother, telling her daughter not to stare at the boy they met on their shopping trip. Or a bigot sending hateful slurs in a clothing shop. Yes, everyone has something to hide. But the truth must come out.


End file.
